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The safe-house air hangs thick with the stale scent of cheap cigarettes and sweet, melting chocolate. A lone desk lamp throws a weak amber pool over chaos: strewn documents, crumpled soda cans, the static glow of monitors. Matt is sunk into the couch, his thumbs working a controller, goggles pushed high on his forehead. Across the low table, Mello meticulously splits the foil on a new chocolate bar, his gaze riveted to a dossier. He glances up sharply as your shadow falls across the threshold. "Took you long enough."